Sweet Child of Mine
by MapleKomori
Summary: Austria and Hungary adopt Chibitalia. Sort of. Mostly just cuteness, but rated T for implied AusHun smexy time in chapter two.
1. Chapter 1

The estate felt empty. It always felt empty. With forty-eight rooms for two people, how could it not? As night closed in, Hungary stared out the window at the endless field of stars. Although she usually enjoyed stargazing - it reminded her of her wild past and her countless adventures on horseback - tonight it felt hollow. The night sky held a blackness without depth that made her feel ever more alone.

She turned around in her oversized chair by the window and looked across the drawing room. Far away - too far away - her husband sat in an oversized chair of his own. The two chairs were a matching set, of course. Custom made. There were only two ways to tell them apart. Hungary's chair was always placed by the room's largest window because she preferred to look outside, and her seat cushion was still as plush as the day the chair was made, because she also preferred to BE outside. Austria's chair, however, was quite well-worn, and it was kept by the fire. He appreciated the flames' scattered crackling to drown out any background noise as he read. It was music for the end of the day, when he was too tired to play any music himself. Seeing as Austria used his piano more than he used his own voice, it was always terribly quiet by this hour. As much as she loved him, Hungary could never get used to it. The terrible, heavy silence of indoors as the skies darkened, locking them in for the night, was so unlike the world she had grown up with. There were no horses fluttering their breaths nor swishing their tails. There was no happy conversation of people setting up their tents nor the clashing of swords as people practiced their defence skills. There were not even any audible crickets or frogs or bats singing along with the night sky. Sometimes, Hungary spoke without having anything to say - she merely needed to puncture the silence, lest she drown in it.

"Austria," she said. Her voice resonated through the room. Austria did not look up from the book he was reading. He raised an eyebrow, indicating that she should go on and tell him whatever it was that she had to tell him. She hadn't thought that far ahead. To comment on the weather showed a lack of creativity - something she had in droves when it came to battle strategy and weapon design, but those could not be written with music notes, so Austria didn't count them. She thought she might say something in appreciation of the room's ornate furnishings, but they both knew she cared nothing for such things. Hungary drew a breath and said the first words that came to her mind.

"Are you lonely?"

Ever so slightly, the corner of Austria's mouth twitched. His mole rose by the edge of the subtlest of smirks.

"Are you proposing we go to bed early tonight?"

Sighing inwardly, Hungary leaned to one side. She gently curled her fist under her chin.

"Aren't I always the one who must propose that?"

"For as long as we've been married," Austria said, "you've always been the less patient between the two of us."

He licked his finger and turned the page.

"But, I agree with you," he said. "Shall I meet you upstairs after this chapter?"

An audible scratch resonated through the drawing room as Hungary curled her nails against the fabric of the chair. Her next words came like gunshots.

"When I asked you if you were lonely," she said through gritted teeth, "I actually meant 'lonely.'"

Austria let his book fall closed, keeping his finger between the pages to keep his place.

"Oh?" he said. There was a hint of disappointment in his voice, yet it was veiled in surprise. He opened his book once more, but shut it again without reading a single word.

"So, you don't wish to - "

"Negotiate the borders of our vital regions?" Hungary said, springing out of her chair. She marched toward Austria, who stood as well as a matter of etiquette. By the time she reached him, the flames in the fireplace were no match for the ones burning within her eyes.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I do. But this time, I want it to be the means to an end."

"Means to an..."

The expression on Austria's face went from confusion to epiphany to fear to irritation. Hungary did not identify any of this, because all of these expressions were displayed through the slight angling of an eyebrow or an arhythmic double blink.

"You... are hoping to conceive a child?"

"Yes!" shouted Hungary, throwing her hands toward the ceiling. "Aren't you?"

Austria remained silent. Hungary rolled her eyes.

"Haven't you ever even thought about it? Or are you too busy with Mozart and Haydn?"

A visible shock ran through Austria's body. He shuddered and waved a scolding finger at Hungary.

"You will leave them out of this!"

Unfazed, Hungary marched around the drawing room, waving vaguely toward the fine architecture and rich furnishings.

"We have all the room in the world," she said, breathless. "All the money in the world. All the time in the world."

She finished parading full-circle, stopping in front of Austria and looking him in the eye.

"You've never thought about sharing this with someone beyond ourselves?"

"I have," was Austria's reply. He stood up straight with his hands folded behind his back. His gaze travelled along the crown molding, although he seemed to be focusing on something else entirely.

"I am well aware of all we have," he said. "And I agree that it would be a shame not to continue our lineage."

He unclasped his hands and let one finger come to rest on his chin.

"Now, when would be the best time to expand the empire? There is much to consider."

"Why not right now?"

"That would be anti-climactic," Austria replied. "Perhaps we should build up political suspense. These days, all the attention is on France, and England and Holland just celebrated their wedding, and what about those two little boys discovered in the New World..."

Hungary shook her head.

"Something tells me you're not approaching this the same way I am."

"I am being strategic."

Casting one last look at Austria, Hungary turned around and marched out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: This is the one slightly T-rated chapter. Warning for implied sex scene.**

The last embers in the fireplace died down and Austria bade his piano goodnight. As he climbed the endless curving staircase, he mentally replayed his discussion with Hungary. She wasn't exactly wrong, but such a significant development would shift the harmonies of the empire. There would be so many adjustments to make, and perhaps it wouldn't be worth it. His echoing footsteps followed him along the upper hallway to the master bedroom.

After washing and changing to his sleeping clothes, Austria slipped into the bedroom's perfect darkness. He could just make out the silhouette of Hungary, lying squarely on her side of the bed. Most of her form was buried under the blanket, which was all the armour she needed. Crawling into bed beside her, Austria made a note of her tense posture. She was turned away from him; just as well since it was too dark for him to determine her facial expressions.

"You aren't completely wrong," he conceded. "It's just that I'm more right."

Bitter laughter came from under Hungary's half of the blanket.

"It's no wonder you're not wishing for a child," she said. "Judging by the way you talk to me, you must think you already have one."

"Hungary, I don't think that," he said. "I admire much about you - not just appreciate, but admire. I look up to your skills with horses and swords, I applaud your directness when dealing with that irritation called Prussia..."

He laid his hand on her shoulder and then gently moved it up to play with her hair.

"And I admire your limitless beauty."

"Mm-hm," Hungary said. The softness was returning to her voice.

"However - "

Hungary blinked.

"This is not the time to say 'however.'"

"However, when it comes to politics and things refined, I believe I hold the upper hand. That's all I wanted to say."

With a grunt, Hungary pulled her pillow out from under her head and placed it overtop, covering her ears. Austria reached out to pet her again and she immediately pulled away.

"Don't touch me."

"Then that will make this very difficult indeed," he said with a chuckle. It had been one hundred years since he had attempted humour, and it would be another hundred before he would attempt it again.

"Your timing, Austria," she said. "How is it that you compose the world's most beautiful concertos, and yet you have no idea how to actually read emotions?" This was not really a question. More of a statement. Or a threat.

"I won't apologize for being right," Austria replied, laying back and pulling his blanket up to his chin.

The two lay in an angry silence that didn't end until Hungary's sense of resentment deflated enough to be overtaken by her curiosity.

"If I asked you - just you, not the empire - if you wanted children, what would you say?"

Austria drew a deep breath and let go of it slowly.

"I would say I have no idea how to plan for that sort of thing." He turned over in bed so he could make eye contact. She was still turned away, though.

"In all honesty, I'd have to consider the child's personality, and how we should raise it, and so on. And none of that can be accounted for ahead of time."

"What's stopping us from learning that as we go, like any parents would?"

"Because the world is watching us," Austria replied.

"No," said Hungary. "You said it yourself. The world is watching France. The world is watching other nations. We're just who they come to when they want music and dances."

After some time, Austria admitted, "that is true."

"Besides," Hungary said, "if we acknowledge we can't control everything, and yet we still go forward, is that not a stronger statement of fearlessness than any perfectly timed birth announcement?"

"It is," Austria agreed. He also silently admitted to himself that perhaps he had underestimated Hungary's political savvy. She had always harboured some number of secret strengths that appeared just in time to win battles and surprise the hell out of everyone. She was an unexpected powerhouse in more ways than one. That was part of why he'd married her.

Underneath the blanket, he reached out to Hungary and laid his hand on her shoulder. Her skin was warm to the touch. As gently as he could, he traced his way along her body. She leaned back against him, allowing his hand to slip forward. Little by little, Austria's fingertips slid up over her collarbone and then down over the curves of her breasts. She loosened the collar of her nightgown, signalling her approval. He would have been lying if he had said these gentle motions were not affecting him as well. A feeling of warmth bloomed everywhere their skin made contact.

"Of course, I know when to realize what is beyond our control," he said.

"Mm-hm." Hungary turned over to face Austria. By then, both their vision had adjusted to the dark, and they could see a bit of detail on one another's faces.

"We can't decide when to have a child," Austria said. "We can only decide when to try for one."

"Meaning..." Hungary did not need words for what she wanted to say next. Shifting forward, she repositioned herself so she could hold his hands in hers. She leaned inward and they kissed.

"Meaning if fate decides to make us parents," said Austria, "then so be it." He smiled. It wasn't a warm smile - Austria's smiles never were - but this time he was sincere. Hungary admired the gentle angles of his face, the way his mole drew attention to his soft lips, and how his eyes held all the intermittent calmness and fierceness of the empire that would rule the world.

"Shall we tempt fate?" Hungary asked, leaning in for another kiss. This one lasted longer. Much longer. It was enough time for Austria to reach over Hungary's shoulder and fully untie the ribbon closure on her nightgown. She giggled as his fingers and bits of loose ribbon tickled her back.

Once their clothing was discarded, the bed offered little warmth. No matter. They made their own.


	3. Chapter 3

Not far from the estate was a field of golden grains and wildflowers. It was Hungary's favourite place, reminiscent of the vast and wild spaces she had traversed on horseback with her family an era ago. In the early morning sunlight, she ran through the field, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being anywhere but indoors. That's when a rustling in the tall grass caught her eye.

Cautiously, she approached. The rustling occurred again. She ducked low to the ground, slowly unsheathing the knife she wore strapped to her leg. Whatever was hiding in the grasses was close enough to chase her down over a short distance, so fleeing wouldn't be an option. She crept closer, readying herself for whatever was waiting for her.

It seemed too small to be a bear. A small wolf, maybe, although those were nocturnal. Hungary paused. The rustling had ceased. She wondered if perhaps she was not being hunted, or if that was merely what her predator wanted her to think. She waited a moment more. The tense silence passed and resolved into a peaceful quiet. Hungary stood up and heard more rustling behind her.

This time it was no game. With a battle cry, Hungary lunged toward the creature. She gripped it by the nape of its neck in her left hand. With her right, she raised her knife.

The creature screamed. Frozen, Hungary blinked. It appeared that the creature was, in fact, a human child. A young child - a toddler at most. Cooing an apology, Hungary sheathed her knife. This did nothing to quell the child's crying.

"It's alright, little one," Hungary said. The child wailed louder. Looking this way and that, Hungary scanned the horizon for any other people.

"Where are your parents?"

The child said nothing, but at least he stopped crying. Hungary licked her thumb and rubbed a smudge of dirt off the child's face.

"Please tell me where you came from," she said, as gently as she could. "Are you lost?"

Once again, the child said nothing, and once again, Hungary looked as far as she could see, in every direction. Besides herself and this child, the area was deserted. She shouted a few words to catch the ear of anyone nearby. Her only answer was the wind.

"Are you lost?" Hungary asked the child again. She knelt to his height. He fell into her arms and held her tightly. Such a strange feeling - warm and soft and bony all at once. A hot teardrop rolled down the child's muddy cheek and landed on Hungary's hand. She couldn't help herself. She embraced the small bundle and felt as though she'd never want to let go.

"What is your name, little one?" she asked. The child replied with a wordless vocalization.

"Alright," Hungary said, climbing to her feet. She scooped the child up in her arms and propped him up against her shoulder.

"You can come home with me until we figure out what to do with you."

The first thing they did upon entering the estate was leave a trail of muddy footprints to the bathroom. Hungary filled the tub with warm water and placed the child in it. His clothes, too filthy and torn to salvage, went straight into the garbage. If their cheapskate emperor had anything to say about it, Hungary had no qualms about dealing with him.

The young child squeezed soap bubbles between his fingers as Hungary scrubbed him down. His smile shone like the April sun, although he had yet to open his eyes.

"You're so cute," Hungary said. "I want to call you Chibi."

The child nodded. Once he was clean, Hungary lifted him from the water and dried him with a fluffy towel. He looked up at her, grinning from ear to ear.

"Italia," he said. Hungary paused. She tried to figure out what he had meant.

"My name," he said, "is Italia."

"Oh," Hungary said with a laugh. "Then I will call you Italia."

"But I like Chibi too," he said. Hungary pondered this as she towelled off his auburn hair.

"How about... Chibitalia?"

With a laugh and a grin, Chibitalia accepted his new name. Next, Hungary and Chibitalia visited one of the estate's many storage closets. Hungary pulled out a trunk with bronze latches and her name embossed along the top.

"I'm afraid I haven't got any boys' clothes," she said. "I didn't know Austria when he was very young and I've got no idea where his old clothes might be."

"Who is Austria?" Chibitalia asked.

"My husband." Hungary wondered if she should give the youngster any more information, and decided against it. Instead, she returned her attention to the storage trunk. Chibitalia toddled closer and watched as Hungary pulled it open. He peeked inside to see stacks of tiny dresses and battle gear. Hungary reached in under the battle gear and pulled out a pair of tights and a tunic. She held them up for Chibitalia to see, but he had already dived into the trunk and was kicking his legs in the air to keep his balance. Overwhelmed by the adorableness, Hungary had to bite her lip to avoid laughing.

After a moment, Chibitalia emerged, clutching a lacy green dress and flouncy white kerchief. He held it out to Hungary.  
>"Is that what you want to wear, Chibitalia?"<p>

Chibitalia nodded enthusiastically.

"But that's..." she trailed off, then shrugged.

"Alright," she said. "I don't see any harm in it." Hungary helped Chibitalia into the dress. She tied the kerchief on his head and he ruffled his hair so that his one unruly curl dipped out from beneath it.

"Very nice," Hungary said. Chibitalia twirled, causing his dress to flare up around him. He seemed quite pleased with himself.

That's when Austria rounded the corner. He was perusing a stack of music sheets as he walked and almost did not notice the scene before him. He stopped. Dropping his arms by his sides, he looked from Hungary to Chibitalia and then back again.  
>"Wha- what the..." he sputtered. "What on Earth is this?"<p>

With a proud smile, Hungary scooped up Chibitalia and cuddled him. She showed Austria a look that was two parts love and one part defiance.

"Fate," she said, "has made us parents."


	4. Chapter 4

The endless pantry contained shelf after shelf of jars, Flours, grains, dried berries for sauces - Hungary could have sworn they had some egg noodles somewhere. Chibitalia had requested pasta, politely at first, but ever more adamant. He had been more than agreeable about everything else thus far, but pasta was non-negotiable. Austria had whispered to Hungary that it was a disciplinary issue. With a wave of her hand, Hungary told Austria she was happy to at least know what the youngster would eat. That would make things easier. At least, it would once she found the pasta. If they had any.

Behind her, the pantry door creaked open. Like a slinking cat, Austria stepped in and shut the door behind him.

"Have you seen the pasta?" Hungary asked, completely ignoring Austria's expression of grave seriousness.

"Pasta is the least of our concerns."

Hungary ignored this as well.

"How is Chibitalia doing?" she asked. Austria scoffed. He folded his arms and postured, which might have been more effective if Hungary was actually looking at him.

"Hungary, have you even considered where this child will live? We haven't got a nursery prepared. And who will look after him when we need to go away on state business?"

Hungary's posture stiffened. She bit her lip.

"Oh, dear," she said. "I don't think we have any pasta."

"Are you even listening to me?" Austria shouted. The pantry door creaked open. Chibitalia leaned into the little space, swinging inward while holding onto the edge of the door. He rocked himself back and forth while looking up at Austria and Hungary.

"Are you fighting?" he asked. His oversized eyes were squeezed shut as he spoke. Austria groaned, a sound of frustration and disgust. Without a word, he pushed past Chibitalia and marched down the hall. Chibitalia blinked.

"It's not your fault," Hungary said. "Austria is always cranky."

Chibitalia nodded, perhaps in acknowledgement, or perhaps because he didn't know what else to do.

"Did you find any pasta?"

Hungary shook her head.

"Sorry, little one," she said. "We can buy some, though." Hungary led Chibitalia out of the pantry. The hallway filled with the sound of beautiful music.

"Wow!" Chibitalia gasped. He looked up at Hungary with a smile, as if to ask if she could hear it too. Hungary nodded.

"That's Austria playing the piano," she explained. "He plays whenever he is trying to think through something. Or when he's feeling cranky. Or smug."

"He's very good," said Chibitalia.

"He gets a lo-o-o-ot of practise." The two of them listened in cautious appreciation for a moment longer.

"Maybe I'll go buy that pasta now," Hungary said. "Would you like to come with me?"

Chibitalia looked in the direction of Austria's music room. His eyes were still shut and his mouth hung open in awe.

"If it's okay," Chibitalia said, "I would rather stay here and listen." Hungary nodded. She went to get her shopping basket, then crossed to the front door.

"I'll be back soon, Chibitalia," she said with a twinkly wave. Chibitalia waved back.

"Bye-bye, Mama."

Fireworks of unexpected happiness exploded in Hungary's heart. The sweet face looking up at her with all the admiration in the world had just called her "Mama." There had never been anyone to call her "Mama" before. Feeling overwhelmed, she looked away, and let her eyes rest on the bust of Mozart. She made herself focus on familiar feelings, such as her mild annoyance at Austria's decision to display the bust of Mozart right near their front door.

"Oh... um... bye-bye, darling," she said, closing the door behind her. Despite her efforts, a tear of joy rolled down her cheek. It was sudden - all too sudden. All at once, she was joyful and loving and... what was that other feeling? Afraid? Hungary had led the charge in many a battle, so she understood nervous anticipation. This was different. Never before had it been her job to nurture a small, helpless creature. Lost in a cloud of a million emotions, Hungary wandered from the estate. Her feet knew the way to the market, leaving her mind completely untethered.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the estate's main door, Chibitalia listened to the music. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. The longer he listened, the more it called to him. He wandered toward its source.


	5. Chapter 5

In the centre of the resonating sound, Austria let his fingers run across the keys. In stressful situations such as this day's, he generally chose a piece of considerable difficulty, so as to fully occupy his mind. This time, however, he had begun with the first etude on his piano desk stand and let the routine take over. There was probably something new from Schubert somewhere nearby, but he felt too cloudy to retrieve it. Fine. This piece would do. It was enough for him to feel the cool ivory under his fingertips and let the humming aura of the sound consume him.

With Hungary and the child preoccupied, Austria allowed himself to forget the world. Following the familiar patterns was hypnotic. It gave him a sense of pride and power knowing he could stylishly trace each song and recreate it like magic.

As his fingers spidered across the octaves, he thought he heard something rustling behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw nothing. Austria continued playing. Then he heard the rustling again. Pausing briefly, he stood up and looked around the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. That's when Austria spotted two enormous eyes peering up at him from under the piano bench. He gasped, quickly disguising his sound of surprise as one of annoyance.

"Why in the... This is highly... Chibitalia, what are you doing here?"

Chibitalia looked up at Austria in adoration. He closed his oversized eyes and squeezed them into thick black arches as he smiled.

"Er... Chibitalia?"

"I love your music," Chibitalia said. "I want to hear it up close."

Austria stammered a few fragments of angry phrases before finally pointing Chibitalia toward the door. Sulking, Chibitalia wandered into the hallway. Once he was gone, Austria closed the door behind him and leaned a chair up under the doorknob. He resumed playing. Somehow, the therapeutic effect was diminished. Try as he might, Austria could not stop thinking about the child.

"Or France," he said aloud. "That's my real problem. France." Austria closed his eyes, disregarding the music sheet in front of him. He let his fingers wander over the keys. The notes flowed into one another, forming a new dance of harmonies. The disconcerting thoughts that had been hanging over him were instantly ousted by this lovely new melody.

"Yes," Austria said to himself, his eyes still closed. "This is exactly what I need to sort everything out." With the music still glowing in his mind, he fetched a blank music sheet and a quill. Time signature. Tempo. Treble clef. And...

One hand pressed the keys while the other drew notes on the page. He switched between the two so rapidly, he might as well have been working with four hands. Four hands on the piano and a smile on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

Dinner was early that evening and Austria resented it. There was no excuse for interrupting his piano rehearsal. Adults could eat later than 6pm and if the child needed his food sooner, there was no sense in shifting everyone else around because of it.

"But isn't it nicer if we all eat together as a family?" Hungary said. Chibitalia nodded in agreement and had a large bite of his beloved pasta. Austria refrained from pointing out the obvious. Hungary paused, perhaps testing if he would.

"Do you know who I saw at the market today?"

"Couldn't imagine."

"Poland and Lithuania," Hungary said. "I told them all about Chibitalia, and Poland said, 'Your son sounds totally cute.'"

Austria's hand froze halfway to his glass.

"You... told Poland that this child is our son?"

Hungary giggled and waved dismissively.

"Poland assumed."

"You didn't correct him."

"Why would I?"

"Because," Austria said, jumping from his chair, "Poland will tell Ukraine, and Ukraine will tell Russia, and Russia will tell China." Hungary tapped her finger against her chin.

"Hmm, perhaps," she said. "Or Lithuania might tell his brothers, and they'd tell Russia, who would tell China."

Austria raised an eyebrow. Hungary kept talking.

"Wouldn't it be funny if Switzerland had overheard?"

With a huff, Austria whirled around and marched away. Chibitalia looked up at Hungary with wide, curious eyes. He slurped in a noodle.

"Is Austria cranky again, Mama?"

"Yes, darling."

Chibitalia eyed Austria's abandoned plate.

"Can I have his pasta?"


	7. Chapter 7

Working by the burning frustration within him, Austria let his fingers fly over the piano keys. It wasn't an angry song, per se, but it was a song being carried on the fiery energy of anger. That worked just as well. Austria felt furious and dignified at the same time - a tiger, king of his lair. The very air in the music room resonated with the bleeding notes. Austria didn't know what he was playing and he didn't care. Intuition guided him. The song he played was fury, as primed by years and years of training.

"No one can take this from me. No one!"

His hands crashed down on a sour note, causing Austria to realize how loudly he had been playing. The child was probably in bed already - not that it mattered.

"This is my house," Austria hissed to the ivory. "I'll dictate the rules." The moment he said so out loud, his fingers lost track of where to land next. The initial rush was gone. Austria tapped gently on a key, but that note sounded wrong. The adjacent note sounded wrong too. As did the sharp above it.

"My composition..." Austria said. The music room's reply was silence. It felt cold, all of a sudden.

"My composition stopped. It's... it's wrong." Austria knew his words didn't make much sense. He leaned his arms on the wooden protrusion above the keys. Gently, so as not to damage the piano, he rested his head in his hands. The swirling carved detailing atop the music stand brushed against his hair.

"Will Chibitalia be my heir?" he said, too quietly for even the music room's walls to hear it.

"Even if he is... Even if I'd act as his father..." Austria's elbow slipped, falling messily on D, E, and F. He flinched, more for his unglamorous accidental assault on his beloved piano than for causing such a loud sound while Chibitalia was asleep.

"I can't leave him this mess," Austria mumbled. "It's all I can do to manage affairs on my own. With France shifting focus, and that loud-mouthed ignoramus Prussia breathing down my neck... this isn't something I can teach the child how to handle." Austria aimlessly poked at a few keys, but the burning melody from before had faded to nothingness. All he wanted was a song of pride amidst the clamour of his neighbours' revolutions.

"It's gotten late," Austria told himself. He hoped that sleeping would renew him in a way that composing music had failed to.


	8. Chapter 8

Even in Austria's dreams, the elusive melody taunted him. The song he had been straining to compose presented itself in the feeling of a perfect flow, and yet was discernible only in tantalizing bits and pieces. If he could only capture that song, he swore, he could hold the key to maintaining his empire's glory. His family would need -

Wait.

He had a wife, not a whole family. There were no -  
>Wait, again.<p>

Blinking awake, Austria tried to bring his world back into focus. It was pitch dark inside the bedroom. He couldn't see a thing, so he just listened. The faintest chirping of the crickets outside. Hungary's gentle, even breaths. And something else.

A string of strange and discordant notes drifted from the music room. Austria slipped out of bed and followed the sound. He paused outside the music room door. Sure enough, the sound was his dear piano being played by horrendously unskilled hands. He pushed the door open to find Chibitalia standing atop the piano bench, poking delicately at the keys. Without stopping, the little boy looked up at Austria and smiled.

"Hello, Austria."

Austria sniffed, his insides congealing at the sight of the child's sticky hands on the piano. Words failed him.

"I like this song," Chibitalia said, and demonstrated by playing a series of notes. It was a horridly clumsy trip along the scales, and worst of all it seemed to be picking up from an arbitrary point that did nothing to set a scene. Unless... A rosy spark of inspiration hit Austria like lightning.

"Move," Austria instructed Chibitalia, whose eyes went wide with seriousness as he immediately obeyed. Austria slid onto the piano bench and played the last few bars of his composition, right up until the part where he had gotten lost. Then, he copied Chibitalia's song. It was a more robust version, of course, utilizing multiple octaves and with the tempo kept consistent. Austria smoothed over the chaos of the initial sound, but maintained the tune. The transition between the two pieces was was seamless.

"...My god," Austria whispered. Holding his hands behind his back, Chibitalia leaned in closer. He stood on his tiptoes and tried to get a look at Austria's hands on the keys.

"Is it hard to play that good?" he asked. Austria blinked. It took him a few false starts before he could respond.

"I'll teach you," he said. "I will teach you everything."

Chibitalia nodded.

"Okay, but can it be tomorrow? Because now I'm sleepy."

Austria was still reeling from his discovery. Some far-off and long-silenced part of his brain told him to give Chibitalia a hug.

"What perfection," he said. "What inspiration."

"Austria? Kyaa!" Austria scooped Chibitalia into his arms and held him up in the air like a newly discovered treasure.

"You're a musical genius, Chibitalia!"

Hoisting Chibitalia onto his shoulders, Austria ran down the hall. He burst out the front door and, without thinking of where he was going, he let his unbridled joy carry him toward the front gates.

"My son is a musical genius!" he shouted to the night. The response was a shotgun being aimed at his face.

"Back to your side of the border, Austria," said Switzerland. The small nation's harsh expression and even harsher gun stayed trained on Austria. Unfazed, Austria looked Switzerland up and down. His misbuttoned coat looked as though it had been thrown on in a hurry. Hints of frilly pyjamas peeked from around his collar.

"What on Earth are you doing out at this hour?" Austria asked.

"I could ask you the same," Switzerland replied. The stand-off was interrupted as a naked France danced by. France was singing something about how much he loved warm nights.

"I have to go now," said Switzerland. He turned to leave.

"Wait," said Switzerland. "You have a son?" Austria nodded. Switzerland eyed Chibitalia, who had fallen asleep over Austria's shoulder.

"He's cute," Switzerland said, and then ran to chase naked France away. Austria carried Chibitalia back to the estate. He took him upstairs and tucked him into bed.


	9. Chapter 9

Hungary awoke that morning to the sound of musical notes. Just the notes - not really music. The sounds were plain, clear, and orderly, yet punctuated often enough with missteps and awkward pauses. She found her slippers and wandered down the hall to investigate. As she approached the music room, she remarked how unusual it was for the door to be left wide open. Peeking inside, Hungary could not believe what she saw.

Not only was Chibitalia inside the room, but he was actually seated at the piano bench. Technically, he was seated atop a stack of books on the piano bench, but he was indeed playing. Austria stood beside him, hands folded behind his back, as he watched the young child navigate the scales. Another batch of eight notes concluded. Chibitalia looked up at Austria for approval.

"Again," Austria said with a nod. "And this time, remember to only use the correct finger for each key."

"But my hands are too small."

"Mozart did it at your age," Austria replied. "So can you."

Chibitalia nodded. He took a deep breath, stared down the piano, and attacked the scales once more. For the morning's peaceful silence to be broken by such a clumsy slog through the notes was all Hungary could have wished for. She leaned against the doorframe, purposefully causing a creaking noise. Austria looked over at her. She smiled warmly, to which he responded with the faintest upward twitch at the corner of his mouth. That ended quickly, though, as Chibitalia played a cringeworthy clash of adjacent keys.

"Start again," Austria instructed. Chibitalia obliged, jabbing at a random key.

"No, no, no," Austria said. "We start with Middle C. Always Middle C." He grasped Chibitalia's hand and firmly placed it in position. Chibitalia's expression was one of quiet determination; a little fear, a lot of hope, and intense concentration diffused to the minutia. It was the same face Austria made when Hungary taught him how to hold a polearm.

Hungary watched in rosy happiness as her husband and son coaxed music out of the piano. That's when a heavy knock thudded against the front door. Austria and Hungary exchanged curious glances. They rarely had visitors, and never this early in the day.

"Are we expecting someone?" Hungary asked. Austria shook his head.

"I'll come with you," he said. "Chibitalia, continue practising." Chibitalia nodded and set his tiny hands crawling up the octave. Austria and Hungary could still faintly hear him playing, even as they reached the front door. The desperate, heavy knocking came again. Austria pulled the door open.

A man who looked deeply worried and utterly exhausted was leaning against their doorframe. His hair was mussed in a way no self-respecting modern gentleman would wear it. He had a scruffy beard, which was none too flattering. His clothing, too, seemed to be a mis-match for the era - and, certainly, for the climate. A robe, a leather gladiator skirt, and even a cape. It was all very strange indeed. Hungary gasped when she looked down at his feet, which were bruised from extensive walking in sandals.

"Oh, dear," Hungary said.

"Good morning, Sir, Madam," the stranger said. "Apologies for disturbing you so early in the day, but have you seen my grandson?" The man reached into the folds of his robe and retrieved a tattered scroll. He unravelled it, revealing a painting that unmistakably resembled Chibitalia.

"Er... one moment, please," Austria said, slamming the door in the stranger's face.


	10. Chapter 10

In panicked heartbeats and hushed whispers, Austria and Hungary scrambled for a plan. Many rooms away, Chibitalia was still practising. Austria could not believe that this example of precocious diligence was related to that odd man waiting outside.

"Maybe it's a coincidence," Hungary said, although her voice betrayed that she suspected it wasn't. Unexpectedly, she stumbled backward. Austria caught her just before she would have hit her head of the bust of Mozart.

"I hate that thing," she said faintly. Austria looked at her in concern. He had never seen her look so strained.

"Why..."

"I'm fine, Austria," she said. "Just a little dizzy." As one, they looked at the door. The anachronistic stranger was probably still waiting there. Gentle, clumsy notes continued to flow from the music room. Austria gripped Hungary tighter.

"We must act now."

"What do we do?" she asked. Austria adjusted his cravat, which suddenly seemed much more snug than it did seconds before.

"I was going to ask you the same question," he admitted. The stranger knocked at the door again. Out of habit, Hungary pulled it open.

"Hello?" said the stranger, a confused look on his face.

"Grampa!" said a small voice from down the hall. Both Austria and Hungary froze as they realized the music had stopped. Chibitalia ran along the hall, pushing between his adoptive parents. He leapt into his grandfather's arms, squealing with joy.

"Oh, thank the gods," cried Grampa Rome. He squeezed Chibitalia so tightly it looked like he would never let go again. Austria and Hungary held hands in very much the same way. On some level, they hoped if their grip was solid enough, it could deflect the sadness that was flooding in.

"Time to take you home," said Grampa Rome. "Everyone has been so worried about you." Chibitalia looked back at Austria and Hungary, who put on brave smiles.

"Goodbye, Mama. Goodbye, Cranky Austria. Thank you for everything."

Unable to speak, Austria and Hungary waved as Chibitalia toddled away. When Chibitalia jumped down from the base of the front step, he turned around and returned the wave. Then he took his grandfather's hand, and the two of them set off toward the front gates.

"Italia?" Grampa Rome asked as they walked. "Why are you dressed like a little Hungarian girl?" The two vanished into the distance. When Austria shut the door, the sound echoed forever into the empty house.

"Maybe I should..." Austria was going to offer to play the piano, but he really didn't feel like it. Hungary leaned back against the nearest wall and let herself slide to the floor.

"I don't feel right," she said.

"I know," said Austria. "I may not show it, but I am broken inside as well." He looked down at Hungary, who rested her head in her hands.

"No, I mean I really don't feel well," she said, grimacing. "Call the doctor."


	11. Chapter 11

Austria waited outside the bedroom door, tapping his fingers against one another. The doctor had wasted no time in arriving and beginning the examination, and yet a great deal of time had passed since the door shut. Anytime an unpleasant thought imposed itself on Austria's mind, he replaced it with "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik." Still, time wore on and his strategy was failing him. At long last, the bedroom door opened.

"Come in, please," said the doctor. Resisting the urge to run to the bedside, Austria entered the room. Inside, Hungary lay nestled in the centre of the bed. She was resting with her arms folded behind her head and a peaceful look on her face. A serene smile graced her lips as she watched him approach.

"Thank goodness you're alright," Austria said.

"Better than alright," said the doctor. "There is good news."

"Wait, wait," said Hungary, sitting up. "I want to tell him." She waited for Austria to kneel by the side of the bed. When they were at the same height, she grabbed his hands in hers.

"Austria," she said, savouring every syllable. "I'm pregnant." Austria blinked.

"You're... With a... We're going to have a..."

"A baby," she said. "You know, one of those very young people."

"Y-yes," said Austria. The doctor nodded.

"I'll leave you two to discuss this alone," the doctor said, ducking out of the room. However, once they had their privacy, little discussion occurred. The two mostly glanced at one another, unsure of what to say next. At long last, Austria spoke.

"It's sudden," he said.

"We've got another nine months to figure out the details," Hungary said.

"And judging by recent events," said Austria, "I think we'll do alright."

Hungary smiled. Austria let himself smile back.

"Yes," he said. "I think we'll do alright.

The two rested together in peaceful silence for a moment more.

"I hope it's a boy," Hungary said, "because I let Chibitalia take all my old dresses."

Austria breathed in an audible way that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"Somehow, Hungary, I don't think it will make a difference either way."


End file.
